


The Last of the Real Ones

by PunkRoxas



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, WidowTracer Tracemaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25446802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkRoxas/pseuds/PunkRoxas
Summary: I always think of them when I hear this song. A one shot from Widowmaker's POV. A little unhealthy obsession never hurt anyone right? Its a heavy thing...Feeling again.
Relationships: Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	The Last of the Real Ones

_I was just an only child of the universe_

_And then I found you_

She hadn’t experienced feelings in so long that when she thought there might be a hint of her heart beating; it was _euphoric_ and _addicting._ She had forgotten what anything felt like. You can’t miss something you thought you’d never had...

But one look, a few sprayed bullets between them and a faint feeling in her chest; like a jolt to her senses and she found herself silently _begging_ for more.

Widowmaker would not have been able to ignore it had she wanted to...And most nights she really did.

Sleeping became impossible. Her nights were filled with that laugh, that smile, those _eyes..._ A drug that had inserted itself into her veins in much the same way the syringe pumped that sticky, yellow liquid into her arm every morning in Moira’s lab. 

She hadn’t _felt_ anything in years.

She _needed_ more. 

_You are the sun and I am just the planets_

_Spinning around you_

The Talon agent made excuses she hardly remembered thinking through. Excuses to chase that high on her missions spilled from her lips to the higher ups and all she could do was listen to herself speak them. 

They raised eyebrows, though, luckily, whatever her subconscious was demanding it was tactful about it. No suspicion was shaken loose and she was able to get away with reassignments and missions that seemed a tactical move on her part. 

Anything for even a _glimpse._

A _moment._

_You were too good to be true_

_Gold plated_

Sometimes Widowmaker wondered if that faint awareness of her heart was simply imagined. Maybe she hadn’t felt anything at all. Maybe it was just another mission. Maybe all of this was just that thrill of killing something manifesting in an unfamiliar way. Was she chasing something that didn’t even exist? 

But, no.

There it was. That sound from somewhere behind her during a fight. It was exhilarating. The sound of a machine whirring; the blue vapor trail just out of sight accompanying it. A blaze of light that was too bright to focus on.

It was as if Widowmaker had never seen light before. Living in darkness until someone pulled her into the sun for the first time. It hurt her eyes and enraptured her all at once. 

This girl _cared._ The rest of them; Overwatch, they didn’t care the way _she_ did. As far as Widowmaker was concerned, they were idealistic idiots who favored their status above all else. Politically and socially. Nothing but hero complexes spiraled out of control with a pretty label slapped on it for show. 

But _her?_

She was the only _hero_ Widowmaker had ever met. The only one who truly cared about others. The only one who put her feelings last on the list and everyone else’s first.

It was infuriating to watch and yet Widowmaker wished she could see it a million times over.

It was terrifying and irritating in the heat of every loaded battle but it made the Talon agent _want_ her to succeed. 

_I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you_

_But not as much as I do_

_As much as I do_

The way she laughed; giggled, even...It sent a shiver down the Talon agent’s spine. It made her grip that rifle ever tighter, and yet, subconsciously, keep her finger far from the trigger.

Widowmaker didn’t just want it. It began to become a _need._ She wanted to run her fingers through that chestnut colored hair and she wanted to wrap her arms around those fit hips. Teeth meeting freckled skin...To nibble and hold that light until it shuddered and went limp and gave in. 

And she’d be damned if she let anyone take that away from her. 

_I am a collapsing star with tunnel vision_

_But only for you_

_My head is stripped just like a screw that's been tightened too many times_

_When I think of you_

It became unbearable.

Her thoughts were completely consumed when they were apart. A high she couldn’t experience without the girl in front of her.

Not that she didn’t try. However, not even hurting or killing had ever sent this kind of thrill thrumming through her bones.

She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t that light british trill. She even asked Moira to up her dosage just to make it _stop._

It didn't. 

_I will shield you from the waves_

_If they find you_

_I will protect you_

_I will protect you_

Oh, Talon would notice now. 

Widowmaker was missing her shots. She was claiming she hadn’t seen the Overwatch agent enter or exit battles. She was making excuses for her missed headshots and her failures and even the ‘stray’ bullets fired from her rifle that were taking out Talon agents mid mission.

But no one was allowed to harm _her_.

No one was allowed to dim _her_ light.

No one was allowed to harm that light but Widowmaker herself,if she ever chose to.

It was no one else’s to take.

It was _her’s._

Talon didn’t allow failures.

She was punished for it. Severely.

Even that didn’t erase those thoughts. No. Those racing thoughts, like her own personal blinks in her head, were what pulled her through those nightmarish moments of discipline. It numbed all of it more than any drug that Talon could have ever concocted.

Widowmaker let herself be lost in those thoughts of a girl too fast and too bright to be pinned down as they tried to break her again. 

_Just tell me, tell me, tell me, I_

_I am the only one_

_Even if it's not true_

_Even if it's not true_

You can’t pin down light. The French woman knew this. How do you put sunshine in a box? In a cage? How do you place the full force of the sun in a single lantern to enjoy it’s warmth and radiance whenever you wanted? 

When those bitter hazel eyes met her mutated yellow, she knew her own would soften. She wondered if the girl noticed.

Those hazel eyes were angry. Angry at the shots fired at Mondetta. Angry at the venom mines dropped and the sneers the assassin had offered. Angrier still, over the Overwatch agents Widowmaker had injured, or worse. 

Those beautiful hazel eyes like a fire in the dark probably hadn’t realized how much Widowmaker enacted restraint against her. 

How badly she wanted those eyes to settle... To soften the way her own did. How much she _ached_ to see those smirks turn to a genuine smile directed at the spider herself. Was there any joy or thrill in the girl when they met? Dancing across rooftops in the chaos?

She wanted to know. She needed to know. 

Not that Widowmaker believed for a moment there was anything but malice directed at her. No. A Talon agent could not be _her_ beacon of hope. The girl didn’t need one. She didn’t need a light in the dark to pull her out of the shadows. 

She _was_ the light. 

And how could Widowmaker ever be a light in the first place? 

_I'm here at the beginning of the end_

_Oh, the end of infinity with you_

Rain hitting the empty streets of a city she had already forgotten the name of. There were no excuses when the lack of a team was present. No excuses for missed shots or claiming she hadn’t seen the girl during a chaotic battle. A few funny lies she’d been spinning for months to her commanders.

Widowmaker always saw the girl. She was the first and last thing she always saw during every fight.

It was just the two of them. One target. Two different types of assassin and no excuses. 

A violent struggle. Shots fired at each other. A quip here or there exchanged. The usual quick witted banter falling from those pretty, pretty lips...

It wasn’t fair. Widowmaker did not wish to smother this light. Only to be allowed to bask in it’s warmth. Even she had to admit, the world needed it. 

When that machine strapped to the Overwatch agent’s chest sputtered, it was a sound that caused the spider to pause in their dance. 

It was unfamiliar. She knew every sound that machine made. She had trained her ears to pick up every noise associated with the girl. Every small squeak, giggle and shot from the twin pistols...Anything that might activate those forgotten feelings inside of her. Anything to shoot static up that spine…

The machine sputtered again and skipped as the brunette ran into a dead end in an alleyway, fiddling with the device on her chest. 

  
_“No. No no no no no…”_

Widowmaker shivered and licked her lower lip as she stalked toward her prey. It was like a symphony. The _panic_ was a new emotion and the Talon agent longed to pull the girl close and quell those shaking breaths...to feel them on her bare neck. So close...

_I'm done with having dreams_

_The thing that I believe_

_Oh, you drain all the fear from me_

_I'm done with having dreams_

She’ll be killed for what she does next. But if she couldn’t have this, then what was the point?

Her rifle...the one thing that used to make the thrill she was so desperately seeking course through her...tossed without a glance to the side of the alleyway.

The sun spot looks at her, quiet for once, shock on her features at the disposal of her enemy’s weapon.

Their eyes meet again. The bitterness ebbs away from the hazel. There is fear and curiosity and ...something else. Something Widowmaker cannot discern. 

She’s close now. Closer than she’s ever been and her breath is caught in her throat. It’s hard to breath. There are emotions sitting on her chest and it _hurts_ in the best way.

Neither of their eyes leave each other. The sound of rain hitting the ground and the machine sparking sporadically between the two of them are all that can be heard. 

_'Cause you're the last of a dying breed_

_Write our names in the wet concrete_

_I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me_

When Widowmaker raises her hand, at the same slow tempo of her heart, the girl flinches before it lands lightly against that freckled cheek. 

It takes a moment and then the Overwatch agent _relaxes_ into it. She leans, ever so lightly, into that touch and Widowmaker’s mouth opens slightly in surprise. 

The light should not yearn for the dark. It was impossible that this girl had been thinking the same things about the assassin...

Impossible that the _hero_ longed for the villain.

She was no hero. No light. Just an all encompassing darkness that killed anything that got too close. 

Except, of course, this girl.

Widowmaker couldn’t remember ever touching something so gently. As if the brunette was made of glass and would shatter under her fingertips…

And, God, she was warm.

Just as warm as Widowmaker had imagined her to be. Maybe more. It was like sticking your hand in hot bath water after coming in from the cold. Almost painful until you were able to get used to it. Widowmaker hadn’t ever known warmth before this nor had she realized just how cold she was.

She wanted to press herself against this warmth...become completely enveloped in it.

However, heaven forbid, she scared it off. 

_I'm here in search of your glory_

_There's been a million before me_

_That ultra-kind of love_

_You never walk away from_

The girl swallows hard, eye’s closing under those cracked orange goggles. The girl doesn’t flinch again. Nor does she move. Both of them are content to stand in the pouring rain, existing closer than they ever have, in silence.

Another spark from the machine, bigger than the previous ones, causes the girl to jump.

However, she doesn’t pull away. 

She pushes closer. 

Arms reach up to grip against the collar of the taller woman’s suit and Widowmaker’s breath catches in her throat as the girl buries herself close against blue skin. 

They’re both shaking.

Widowmaker’s breathing, though light, becomes labored. It’s almost too much. Almost unbearable to be that close. Like being engulfed in flames. She’s not used to having this many emotions flashing through her at once. It’s painful...and yet...

...What was this girl? 

_“I don’t want to disappear again. Please, don’t let me disappear again.”_

She’s begging.

There’s a crack in her voice that causes electricity in Widowmaker’s veins and it has nothing to do with the malfunctioning technology between them that has now stopped sputtering as well as whirring. The blue light flickers faintly in the center even though the girl’s light, to the assassin at least, is brighter than it’s ever been. 

_“You won’t.”_

Strong arms wrap carefully around that small frame and she trails her slender fingers through buzzed chestnut hair at the nape of the girls’ neck. She can feel that warm nose against her throat, just like she always imagined, but so much better. 

Oh, how wrong all of her fantasies were. They didn’t come close. They couldn’t compare. If she had considered herself entranced before, truly, she would be addicted for the rest of her miserable life now.

It was as if someone had finally shot the sniper through her very own heart. 

Tracer hiccups a terrified breath against Widowmaker’s throat in response. 

_“A light like yours could never disappear. I would never allow it, cherie’.”_

  
_You’re just the last of the real ones._


End file.
